Amber strummed her guitar, practicing her carefully written melody. She's been working on this tune for nearly four years, now. If she was this dedicated to her music, there had to be at least a chance that she could make it as a rock star. It's been her one dream since she was a little girl. The way the drums pounded a seamless rhythm, the pulsing of the bass, the silky voice that sings the melody, that electric guitar that ties it all together – that's what she wanted. Her heart was set on it.
That dream was what kept her going during the day. Because in all honesty, school sucked. Especially since she wasn't exactly the most popular girl in school. Alright, so she didn't have any friends at all. But it was always okay, because she had that one dream of hers. It was like her source of energy, her life source. As long as she kept that goal in mind, it didn't matter if nobody talked to her, or if they called her a freak.
That's not to say that she didn't try to fit in, though. Of course she tried – who wouldn't want to be included, to have friends, or at least some sort of reassurance that they're actually worth something? Maybe that's why she didn't fit in: because she tried so hard to. Forever engrained in her memory was the way she felt standing in the gym in her hand-me-down oversized cheerleading uniform, her mousy brown hair tangled up in a messy ponytail. She'd done every cheer she knew (she'd been practicing all month for tryouts, after all). But no matter how much she gave it, all she received were haughty and sneering looks from the actual cheerleaders of her high school. That's when it became clear – it became obvious any time she looked in a mirror – she wasn't as pretty as any of them, or really very pretty at all, actually. She was just ordinary. Maybe even a little funny looking. Slightly awkward, teased for coming to school made up in different makeup styles from her rock and roll idols. It just seemed no matter what she did, she'd never really fit in.
So Amber tried to keep a stiff upper lip. Any time one of the popular kids jeered at her, she drowned them out with the latest rock CD. She'd ignore the hate mail she was passed during class and focus on writing the lyrics to one of her songs. She devoted her life to her music. That's what she wanted anyway, right? Who needed friends? She didn't need to be popular, or liked even. Her best friend would be her music. And when she was a famous rock star, she'd have so many friends she wouldn't be able to keep track. Everybody would love her.
Then, for the first time in a very long time, someone didn't treat Amber like garbage. Somebody actually paid attention to her, and seemed interested in her, in the "rock n' roll freak show".
His name was Roger. Roger Davis. His name did ring a bell – he was one of the jocks. One of the popular kids. But he wasn't like the other popular kids who made fun of her – he actually talked to her. And he just asked her out. Did that really just happen? Was she really going on a date with one of the most popular boys in school? She thought it was actually happening – she had barely managed to squeak out a "yes", he was just so charming, and so cute! Maybe she wouldn't be the freak of the school. Maybe she could get a boyfriend, meet more of the popular kids, they'd realize she wasn't so weird, and then she'd have friends! Not only that, she'd be one of those kids that everyone looked up to and respected! Finally.
After fixing herself up a little bit, Amber actually didn't look that bad. She put on a little bit of pink blush to hide how pale she was, and tried not to put on as much eyeliner as she had really wanted to (pretty girls wear hardly any eyeliner). Her lashes were full, and the shading on her eyeshadow was as perfect as she could get it within only a few hours. Her chestnut hair was curled for the first time in ages and put up in the best cheerleader ponytail she could muster. Okay, so she was trying a little harder than normal to look like one of the pretty pink popular girls. She figured once she got Roger's attention with her cute new look, then she could show him how amazing she really was, and he would love her for her personality just as much as her appearance.
Amber started on her way to the park where they were supposed to meet. She couldn't shake that fuzzy excited feeling that boiled in her chest! Just the way he smiled at her when he asked her out… she hoped it would all work out! Hopefully they'd have enough to talk about. What if he didn't like music? What would they talk about then? No, she was sure, he'd be interested in her passion for music. Why else would he have asked her out? Maybe she would even show him a few of the poems she'd been working on…
She found a bench in the park and waited for Roger to come.
She waited.
And waited.
And waited.
He was probably just running late.
She waited.
And waited.
Why hadn't he come yet? What if… No, Amber, don't tell yourself that. Of course, he'll come. He's probably just late…
And waited.
And waited.
The moon was full and shining bright in the sky. How late had it gotten?
And waited.
Don't check your watch, that'll just make you more nervous. He'll come, don't worry. He's probably on his way now…right?
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
He's coming… any minute now, he'll be here…
And waited.
And waited.
Oh god…was that the sun coming up?
It couldn't be. Had she really been waiting that long?
Amber pulled herself off the park bench. He obviously wasn't coming. Did she really just get stood up? No, of course not. Roger was nice. He was willing to talk to her, after all. He probably just forgot. That's all. He was a very busy guy, after all. That was probably it. He just forgot that it was last night that he was supposed to meet her. Or maybe Amber heard the wrong time, that was always possible.
The walk home seemed to drag on longer than normally. With each step she seemed to sink further into doubt. She had to face facts. Roger was popular, and she wasn't. She was…well, she was a freak. The sooner she accepted that, the better. She had been stupid to think that he was really interested in her. She wished she hadn't tried so hard to impress him with her stupid cheerleader look. Not that it mattered, now. The tears streaming down her cheeks smudged the makeup, and her hair lost all its perky curl and hung sad and wild in her ponytail.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. God, why did she ever have to get her hopes up? Twenty four hours ago, she wouldn't have cared at all what those kids were doing, and now she felt completely crushed, because of nothing. Because she was nothing.
All she wanted to do now was go home, crawl into bed, and never come out. When she finally reached her house, she found it covered in soggy toilet paper. Of course. Get the freak out of the house by making her wait for nonexistent date, then TP her house while she's gone. That'll be a surprise to come home to. Well, Amber had to give it to them, it certainly was a thorough job. And exceedingly well-planned. The soul-crushing heartbreak was a nice touch, albeit a little unnecessary if all they wanted to do was pull a stupid prank like this.
All her emotions felt numb and dulled down from hours of patient waiting. She wasn't even sure if she really cared that much at this point. She was probably sleep-deprived. She just needed to get some rest and clear her head. Then she could go back to her lonely life of naïve rock star dreams.
She yanked the toilet paper off her door and slunk into her house. Her parents were probably at work, so it was just her, home alone. She didn't mind. At this point she just wanted to sleep and pretend that all of this never happened. Cocooning herself in her covers, Amber squeezed her eyes shut and let the heaviness consume her as she drifted to sleep.
"You know she's probably home by now, man."
"Probably, but who cares?"
Amber's eyes slowly opened at the sound of teenage voices coming from outside.
"Why are we even here? Let's just get outta here."
Roger's voice. Was he with friends? Outside her house? If it weren't for her extreme exhaustion she'd go to the window and tell them to leave. Besides, there wasn't too much else they could do to her now, anyway. She didn't want anything to do with them.
"We gotta add the finishing touches, man." One of the slimy jocks said in a mock sweet voice. Great, more vandalism on her house.
A girly voice giggled in response to what he had said. So the cheerleaders came, too. Just how many teenagers were outside her house, exactly? Maybe five or six? That's what it sounded like, anyway.
She heard a toxic spraying sound. Spray-paint. They were most likely writing some awful crude message for her on the side of her house. Hushed voices, more giggling, inaudible speaking. Amber rolled over onto her stomach and flumped a pillow over her head. God, why couldn't they just leave her alone?
"Careful where you light that thing, Jessica. I think this paint is flammable or something."
"Todd, relax. It's only a cigarette."
The fumes from the cigarette smoke and the spray-paint wafted up into Amber's room. She tried to force herself to get up and shoo them away, but her fatigue was stronger, and she fell under sleep for a while longer.
She woke up screaming.
Everything was hot and her throat was unquenchably dry.
There was a sinister crackling coming from all directions.
Flames engulfed her bedroom.
The fire ate at every piece of her room, climbing its way to Amber.
She couldn't stop screaming, even though her lungs were losing air by the second.
Her lungs pulled and searched for oxygen, but there wasn't any left in the air.
Everything was orange and red and scorching. She couldn't even see directly in front of her.
It wasn't difficult to guess how this happened.
Fire. Everywhere. Embers flew around her head and into her eyes. Nothing but fire and flame.
And then it was over.
She was dizzy when she came to. Everything was a blank. She didn't know where she was, or what she was doing there. She didn't even know who she was.
She observed her surroundings. Ashes coating what must have once been a bedroom. There were still remnants of a bed in the center of the room. There was something on the bed. She inched closer towards it, taking caution.
A girl. She was pretty sure it was a girl. She lied in her bed, empty of all life. Ash powdered her face as a few embers flickered around her.
Her throat grew tight and her chest heaved at the sight. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes. She couldn't quite piece it all together – she didn't have the luxury of memories from whatever past she might have had – but her tie to this girl on the bed was strong enough to tell her what she needed to know.
She noticed how bright the embers around her still glowed. Ember. Familiar and new all at once. It felt right. That was who she was. Ember.
Ember walked through what must've been her old room. It all looked so broken, so lost. So much was gone forever. She felt so detached from it all, too. These weren't direct memories she felt, they were just faint tugs, telling her to care. Photographs of a concentrated girl with light brown hair. In some she was strumming a guitar. Pieces of a crisped bulletin board hung on the wall. Ember could hardly make out what any of the paper still intact even said, they were so damaged.
She did manage to find one piece of scrap paper. It was entitled "Amber". For the most part, the lyrics were good, but she didn't like the name. It didn't sound like her. It sounded like disappointment and unfulfilled dreams. She retitled it to fit herself, and began making other tweaks to the song, adding new lyrics and finding a familiar tune within the recesses of her mind.
Ember. She would make sure that this time, she wouldn't be forgotten.